


Feels Like Flying

by Kika988



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Sheithlentines 2019, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-05 02:26:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17910212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kika988/pseuds/Kika988
Summary: When a music competition brings Shiro and Keith together, Shiro extends a hand to help him achieve dreams he hadn't even considered possible. Neither of them knew at the time that those dreams would change to include each other.





	Feels Like Flying

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sliding in at the last minute here with my Sheithlentines for Utakelis! I'm so sorry it's so late, but I hope you like it. It's the first AU I've ever written, and the longest fandom piece I've written in quite a while, so it was a fun challenge!
> 
> Many thanks to [perfectlyrose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfectlyrose/pseuds/perfectlyrose) for all the cheerleading as well as the super helpful beta job!

"You did really well with that," Shiro said, smiling across the room at the young girl, who was clutching her violin to her chest hard enough to make him wince. "The middle portion was a bit rushed, so be sure to keep steady there, and remember to keep the bowing smooth. Relaxing your bow arm will help a lot. But your pitch was great, and your technique otherwise was right on point. Keep it up," he finished. She squeaked out a thank you before scurrying out of the room.   

Shiro sat back in his chair with a sigh as he made some final notations on the sheet music he'd been provided for the student. He tried to remind himself that he'd  _ volunteered _ to do this when his orchestra director suddenly had a scheduling conflict at the last minute, but if he had to hear one more rendition of Canon in D Minor played by an overachieving sixth-grader, he might actually cry. He genuinely enjoyed being able to provide positive feedback to kids trying their hand at music, but even he had his limits. Thankfully, he was almost done.

He reached for the next entrant's folder, the last of the day. Keith Kogane, senior at Plant City High, playing- 

_ Well, this should be interesting. _ Even for a senior with a few years of private instruction, this song would be difficult to pull off at a high school level -- Shiro would know, he'd tackled it himself just last year. Brahm's Sonata No. 3 wasn't necessarily technically difficult, but it was full of emotion that took plenty of practice and skill to convey. 

"Next!" he called out, signalling the handler outside to send in Kogane. There was a brief delay before the door swung open, and a boy with the most confident stride he'd seen all day entered the room. It took Shiro by surprise; most of the kids came in nervous or apprehensive, or at the very least attempting to suck up to the judge. Keith was none of that, though as he stepped closer in his loose combat boots and skinny jeans, Shiro couldn't help but feel he exuded as much defiant posturing as confidence. 

"Afternoon, Keith," he said, smiling. Keith's eyes ticked up to his, as if surprised to be addressed. "I'm Shiro, I'll be judging you today. Do you have any accompaniment?" 

"No." Keith's answer was short and to-the-point, and Shiro found himself  both grateful for the lack of nervous rambling and intrigued by the boy enough to almost wish he had more to say. 

"Well, you can start whenever you're ready," Shiro replied. Keith nodded, taking a moment to settle his violin on his shoulder and pluck over the strings to check for tuning. After that, he wasted no more time -- he took a deep breath, then pulled the bow across the string, and suddenly everything around Shiro faded away. 

In retrospect, it was almost laughable that Shiro had been concerned about the piece's emotion; Keith's were raw and open and nearly painful to listen to as he poured his heart out into the melancholy song. Each note filled the room, pushing the very air out of Shiro's lungs as he struggled to catch up, remembering part way through that he was supposed to be taking notes on the performance. Aside from some bowing issues, it was honestly a struggle to find much to critique.

It was a struggle, also, to pull his eyes away from Keith in order to take notes. He was obviously not trying to play up his movements the way some did, with exaggerated dips and rises on their toes, but he swayed in time to the music in a way that seemed completely unintentional and natural. Dark curls fell into his face as he played, but he didn't seem to notice -- which is what made Shiro realize he'd never put the sheet music on the provided stand. He was playing entirely from memory. 

Shiro felt like he was hanging on by his fingernails for the remainder of the piece, which was over too soon and not soon enough simultaneously. As a hush fell over the room, Shiro realized he was staring, and closed his mouth with an audible  _ snap _ as he looked down at his notes -- or lack thereof. Where he should have been making helpful suggestions, the sheet music in front of him currently held two notes: 'great transition here' and 'wow'. 

He realized he'd said that last one out loud when Keith blinked over at him and spoke. "Wow?" Shiro laughed a little, flushing and rubbing the back of his neck as he looked down at the music again, as if it might offer some help. 

"Yeah, wow. That was amazing, Keith." The kid looked genuinely surprised at the praise, a blush rising high on his cheeks. "I'm supposed to offer you some constructive criticism, but honestly I really just enjoyed the performance," he admitted. 

"Oh. Uh, thanks?" Keith said, still looking a little gobsmacked. 

"I mean, your posture could use some work, maybe," Shiro said, reaching for anything to offer. "And I think you may have slurred some bowings there toward the end that are notated as separated, which took away from the staccato effect it needed, but- really, that could easily have been an almost flawless solo performance on stage. I'm genuinely impressed. Who is your teacher?" 

Keith looked mildly confused by the question. "Mr. Santos is the director at school," he said slowly. 

"Oh yeah, I've met him before, nice guy," Shiro said, nodding. "I meant your private instructor, though." Something in Keith's face closed off as Shiro spoke. 

"Don't have one," he said shortly. "Never have." Shiro stared for a moment in silence -- it was hard to fathom someone coming by that level of skill just from the meager musical instruction offered in public schools. 

"Are you serious?" Shiro asked, flabbergasted. "Keith, a talent like yours should be-"

"Thank you for your time, sir." Before Shiro could fully register what was happening, Keith had turned on his heel and was marching toward the door, his hand a white-knuckled grip around the neck of his instrument. 

"Keith-" It was all Shiro got out before the door clicked shut behind him with a finality that bothered Shiro far more than it should have. 

Setting his jaw, Shiro scribbled out some notes on his judge's card -- a perfect score, how could he do anything less? -- and stacked the last of his folders up as quickly as possible. He hurried out of the room, stopping by the admin room to drop off his notes before heading for the student waiting room. 

There were still a few people milling about, mostly students waiting for results with their families, but as his eyes scanned the small crowd Shiro realized Keith was nowhere to be seen. With a growl of frustration, he turned on his heel, heading for the main exit. 

Once outside, Shiro looked around the parking lot, where a few high school students lingered, talking excitedly (and in some cases, sadly) about their results, but again, no Keith. Just as Shiro was about to give up, he spotted a head of dark curls heading away from him down the sidewalk, gripping a hard plastic violin case covered in stickers. 

Keith must have packed up in a hurry, to already be that far, but Shiro wasn't above jogging to catch up, which is exactly what he did. 

"Keith!" The boy kept walking for a few more steps, but Shiro didn't give up easily. "Kogane!" That got his attention, and he looked over his shoulder in confusion. His eyes widened upon seeing Shiro. 

"Did you need something else from me?" Keith asked, frowning. 

"No," Shiro replied, coming to a stop beside him. "I mean, kind of. I just wanted to apologize, if I said something to upset you. I was just really impressed by your playing, and think you should really try to do something with that, if you-" 

"Look, I appreciate it," Keith said, though his steely tone of voice didn't sound very appreciative at all. "But not everyone can afford private lessons." It took Shiro aback for a moment; it was something he knew, logically, but in his experience most everyone dedicated enough to come to Solo and Ensemble at the upper high school levels were those who planned to try to make a career of music, or at least use it for college scholarships, and for that you almost invariably needed a private tutor. Apparently Keith hadn't let the lack of that slow him down, though. 

"I apologize for making assumptions," Shiro said slowly. "Can I ask if you're planning on entering a university music program?" 

"I just said I've never had private lessons," Keith said, a hint of anger slipping into his tone. "I don't stand a chance of getting into anywhere decent without one, so what's the point?" 

Shiro's eyes widened in disbelief. "Are you serious? Keith, you could get in just about anywhere you wanted, once you got an audition. Hell, you could probably get a full ride," he added. 

Keith looked… confused. Pleased, but confused, and Shiro couldn't help but wonder if no one had ever  _ told _ him how good he was before. 

There was a beat of silence before Shiro spoke again. "Look, this might be kind of weird, but can we talk more about this? We can grab lunch somewhere, my treat." He sees the conflict on Keith's face for a long moment before he seems to come to a decision. 

"Yeah," he replied, still looking a bit wary. "Yeah, okay." 

* * *

 

 

Lunch turned into a tentative friendship, one Shiro protected and nurtured carefully. At first they only spoke about music; after all, Shiro was a rising star in Arizona State's symphony orchestra, and he could practically *see* the longing in Keith's eyes when that came up at their first meal together. 

Shiro learned that Keith was a foster kid, and as such could never afford private lessons, but he practiced for hours after school each day, and the high school orchestra director did what he could to help. As far as Shiro was concerned, that dedication seemed to have paid off; Keith's technique might be a little rough around the edges, but it was obvious that he had talent and could be amazing, if given the chance. 

It was a careful balance; Shiro didn't want to pressure the kid, no matter how talented he was, but as a senior in high school, time was short if he was going to get into a good music program. It took a couple of weeks, but Shiro finally laid it out plainly for him. 

"I don't have any say over the selections," Shiro said. "But I can put in a good word for you, and help you prepare your application and audition. I think you can make it, Keith."

It took another week for him to make up his mind, but once he did, he was all-in. 

The next few months were a whirl of application essays, deadline panics, and long hours of practice squeezed in between Keith's part-time job and Shiro's full plate of college courses and rehearsals. Matt joked about Keith being their third roommate, which wasn't unreasonable considering the number of times Keith ended up passing out on their couch after several hours of practice. 

Shiro never grew tired of hearing Keith play; with a few nudges in the right direction, his technique improved exponentially, and his music was rarely anything less than breathtaking. In turn, Keith never ceased seeming surprised when Shiro praised him and commented on what he was doing well. 

When the day of auditions came, Keith was a nervous wreck. No one who didn't know him would be able to tell, of course, but by now Shiro could read Keith's face almost as well as the sheet music in the folder at his side. He only went that stone-faced when there was true turmoil underneath. 

"I should have just done a recorded audition," Keith said quietly, eyes fixed on the door to the audition room. Other students milled around, and sounds of tuning and snippets of the audition pieces filled the air. 

Shiro shook his head. "You know they prefer in-person auditions, so this improves your chances. And you're going to do great, anyway, so you don't have anything to worry about." 

"You're the only one that thinks that," Keith said, still not meeting Shiro's eyes. 

"Keith, look at me." He put his hands on Keith's shoulders, and after a moment blue-purple eyes met his own. "Do you trust me?"

"Of course," Keith answered instantly, and the lack of hesitation there made something twist in Shiro's chest. Keith's trust had been hard-won, but like everything else he did, he was fully committed once he'd set his course. 

"Then trust me when I tell you that you've got this," Shiro said firmly. "You've got the talent, and you've worked hard. Now just go in there and play for them like you did in my living room last night." He dropped his hands and handed Keith his violin, then checked the tension on the bow before handing it over as well.

Keith took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah. Alright. Thanks." He hesitated, thumb brushing over his A string as if checking his tuning for the tenth time. "So. If I don't get in-"

"You will."

"Alright, but if I  _ don't _ ," Keith said insistently, "Are we- will you…" He trailed off, his eyes flicking nervously to the side, and suddenly Shiro understood. He knew a little, now, of Keith's history, how his mother had left, his father had died, and then he'd spent ten years being bounced around no less than fifteen foster homes. His life hadn't had a whole lot of permanence and even less trust. 

"I'm not going anywhere either way," Shiro promised, smiling softly. "You're my friend, Keith. Nothing's going to change that." Keith flushed, but he looked pleased, and Shiro swore he could see some of the tension drain out of his shoulders. 

"Kogane!" Keith startled at the sound of his name, called out by a harried-looking man with a clipboard. Shiro reached out, squeezing his shoulder. 

"Just pretend you're playing for me, okay? Just me." Keith nodded, took a deep breath, and marched toward the audition room.

* * *

 

The day Keith got a letter in the mail from ASU, he showed up on Shiro's doorstep, eyes wide, shoving the envelope into Shiro's chest as soon as the door opened.

Shiro took the envelope out of pure reflex and stepped aside as Keith stalked past him into the apartment. When Shiro looked at the envelope to see the school's logo, he sucked in a breath and felt his heart rate kick up a notch, as if the paper inside held answers to his  _ own _ future. 

"Did you-"

"I don't know. Haven't opened it." Shiro looked again; the envelope was still sealed. 

"Why not?" 

"I  _ can't _ ," Keith said, as if that explained everything. "Can you open it?"

Shiro knew it was good news. He  _ knew _ it. He'd personally written Keith a reference, his GPA was reasonably good, and Shiro knew exactly how hard he'd worked to prepare for his audition. "Keith, are you sure?" Keith's eyes were closed, his hands in a white-knuckled grip on the edge of the kitchen counter he leaned against, but he nodded. 

Shiro carefully peeled the flap of the envelope up, doing his best not to tear the paper; Keith might want to hold onto it or something. 

"Shiro, just tell me." Keith still hadn't opened his eyes.

"Sorry, yeah, just-" He pulled the paper out, wasting no more time as he skimmed the first few lines. His eyes widened and he couldn't help the delighted laugh that spilled out of him. "Keith- Keith, you did it!" 

Keith's eyes shot open, his lips parting as he stared at Shiro in disbelief. "What?" 

Shiro held out the letter. "You're in! You're going to ASU!" He laughed again. "You're going to be in the symphony with me!" It was the last thing that finally seemed to sink in, and suddenly Keith was launching himself away from the counter, past the outstretched arm that held the letter, and wrapping his arms around Shiro's neck in a tight hug. 

Shiro wrapped his arms around Keith, lifting him up off the ground slightly in his enthusiasm. "I told you," he crowed happily. "I know you could do it!" He felt the warmth of Keith's breath as he buried his face against Shiro's neck. 

"Thank you," Keith said, his voice quiet but intent. He was a hard line of warmth against Shiro's body, long and lean and strong in his grip, and as Shiro hugged him back, turned his face into the unruly curls of Keith's hair, all he could think was,  _ oh _ . 

Keith fit in Shiro's arms like he  _ belonged _ there, and it took every bit of strength in him to let go when Keith took a step back. 

"Thank you," Keith said again, eyes gleaming. Shiro shook his head, stuffing his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching out for him again. 

" _ You _ did this, Keith," he said, smiling. "I just gave you the nudge, is all. You put in all the hard work. Which is why," he said, looking up as Matt entered the apartment. "We're going out to celebrate. My treat." Matt's eyes widened as he took in their expressions. 

"You got in? You got in! Hell yeah!" Shiro winced as Matt dropped his French horn case inside the door, then dashed into the kitchen to wrap Keith in a hug. If Shiro thought Keith looked a little less comfortable in Matt's arms than he had in Shiro's, well, that was probably pure bias. "Where are we going?" he asked, turning to Shiro, arm still hooked around Keith's neck. 

"Splitsville?" Keith asked hopefully. Matt groaned. 

"Why do bowling alleys even exist still?" 

"Because we say shit like that, then turn around and give them money," Shiro laughed. 

"They have good food  _ and _ the arcade," Keith said defensively. "I don't even actually want to bowl." 

"Hey, this is your celebration," Shiro said, throwing an arm around Keith's shoulder and ignoring the suspicious look that got him from Matt. "We'll do whatever you want." 

Two large pizzas and an absurdly large plate of nachos later, even Keith was full to bursting, though it was long after Shiro and Matt had both given up. They went a few rounds on a shooter game, then Matt wandered off to flirt with the shoe rental girl while Shiro and Keith settled in at the racing game. 

"You ready to go down, old timer?" 

"You say that every time, but whose name is in the top spot on the leaderboard?" Shiro retorted, using the wheel to navigate the option screen until he'd settled on his preferred vehicle. 

The roar of computerized engines filled their ears and they were off, jostling for first position before the racetrack opened up before them. For the first part of the race, they were pretty even, trading jabs back and forth, but near the end Shiro made the mistake of looking over to his right, and saw the fierce, unbridled joy on Keith's face as he pulled a bit ahead. 

It made something in Shiro's chest turn over, and that momentary distraction was all that was needed for his car to go careening into a wall on the screen. Keith gave a whoop of victory as he shot across the finish line, leaving Shiro in his digital dust.

"Oh man, what  _ happened _ ?" Keith asked, looking over once he'd filled in his initials in the top slot.    
  
"I messed up, you won fair and square," Shiro answered, shrugging. "Good job, you're on a roll today." Keith laughed. 

"You're still better, it was just a stroke of luck," he said, but he grinned up at Shiro in a way that made Shiro want to hug him again. Instead, he settled for reaching out and clasping Keith's shoulder. He wasn't sure how to process the sudden thought that he'd do almost anything to keep Keith smiling like that.

Later that night, Keith was sacked out on the couch, and once again Shiro couldn't help but wonder about the foster parents that never even bothered to call or text to check on him when he was out all night. He' was wearing a t-shirt he borrowed from Shiro and some old ratty sweatpants of Matt's, and he looked soft and vulnerable in a way he never allows himself to when he's awake. 

The sound of movement caught Shiro's attention, and he realized Matt had come out of the bathroom at some point and was now looking between Shiro and Keith, his brow creased in a slight frown. Shiro raised his hand in acknowledgement and turned to go to bed, but when he went to shut the door, it was stopped by Matt's hand. He opened it back again, raising his eyebrows in question. 

"He's gonna need a place to stay, you know," Matt said conversationally. "He'd hate the dorms." Shiro nodded slowly; he'd hated the dorms himself, and he was far more social than Keith. 

"You're right. He ages out of the system this summer, and from what I know of his foster parents, I have my doubts they'll let him stay any longer than that." 

Matt nodded, chewing on his lower lip before speaking again. "We could always try to get a three-bedroom unit." 

Shiro looked up, surprised. "You'd do that?" 

Matt shrugged. "He's a good kid. I like him. And he's gotta cook better than you." 

"Low bar," Shiro muttered, but he smiled, glancing over Matt's shoulder at Keith, still snoring on the couch. "Yeah, alright. I'll bring it up to him tomorrow." 

Matt hesitated, but nodded. "Just… be careful with him, Shiro, okay?"

It threw Shiro off for a minute; he hadn't realized Matt had grown to care so much for Keith that he'd be that concerned about his wellbeing, but it made sense. Keith was easy to like once you got to know him, and Matt was a good guy. 

"Of course," Shiro assured him. Matt didn't look convinced as he headed back for his room, and Shiro tried not to be offended by that. 

* * *

"You're sure?" Keith asked, brow furrowed as he hesitated outside of Shiro's car. Shiro huffed out a laugh. 

"Keith, we already moved into a bigger apartment and your name is on the lease. How much more sure could we be?" he teased, reaching out and taking Keith's suitcase. He hefted it into the back seat before turning back to Keith. "Yes, we want you to live with us. Better than the dorms, right?" 

"Well, yeah," Keith said, as if it were obvious. "I just don't want to… you know, intrude." 

"You're not intruding," Shiro assured him. "Hell, you'll be keeping me company, since Matt's spending so much time at Jane's apartment now. So, is your bed already disassembled, or should I dig my tool kit out of the trunk?" 

Keith glanced back toward the house; when Shiro followed his glance, he saw the tell-tale twitch of curtains that indicated they were being watched. 

"I'm not bringing a bed," Keith said, dragging his eyes back to Shiro. "They need it for the next kid, I guess. I'll buy one in a few weeks, I'm sure I can find one on Craigslist or something." 

Shiro felt his jaw clench as he glanced back at the house; Keith's foster parents had never once cared when he was out all night, and the way Keith ate when they had meals together made him wonder if they fed him enough. Keith had never given any indication that they'd physically hurt him, but they certainly hadn't gone out of their way to make him feel welcome and taken care of, either. Now they couldn't even be bothered to help him get his start out in the world.

"I may know where we can get you one," Shiro said, clapping Keith on the shoulder and squeezing there. "Any more bags I can help with?" 

Keith shook his head. "No, this is it. My violin's already at your place." 

"Cool." Shiro smiled, and tilted his head toward the car. "Ready to go? Unless you need to say goodbye, or…" 

Keith glanced back at the house, the front door already closed behind him. "No, I'm good." 

Shiro couldn't help glancing over at Keith on the way back to the apartment. He was quieter than usual, and Shiro hated that they had to do this on his birthday. It was the only day they'd both had off, though, and Keith's foster parents had hinted that while they wouldn't kick him out immediately, he wasn't  _ really _ their problem anymore after today. 

"Thanks for coming to get me," Keith said suddenly. "And… you know. Everything. The apartment and all." 

"It's no hardship," Shiro said. "Matt and I are actually coming out better than we were before, with the split rent," he pointed out. 

"I know," Keith said, frowning. "But you've still helped me a lot. I appreciate it." 

"You're welcome," Shiro said slowly. "But you've worked hard to get here, Keith. I'm glad you'll be living with us," he added. "I like spending time with you." 

His words were followed by a long silence, and as soon as he came to a stop at a red light, he dared a look over at Keith, wondering if he'd gone too far. Keith was staring at him, an oddly speculative look in his eye, and Shiro felt as if he'd been caught out at something. 

"So," Shiro said, breaking into the silence with a bit more gusto than necessary. "What are we doing for your birthday?" Keith blinked, as if the question took him by surprise. 

"I, uh. I hadn't thought about it," he admitted. "It's sheer luck I even had today off." Shiro nodded, considering. Keith worked at a local music store, and had to be there first thing in the morning, so they couldn't do anything  _ too _ crazy. 

"Well, we could go out," he suggested. "Hit the arcade, or the diner. Maybe catch a movie, if you wanted." Keith thought about it for a moment before answering. 

"I think I'd rather stay in, honestly," he finally said. "If that's cool with you."

Shiro smiled over at him. "Sure," he agreed easily. "We'll head home, then."

"Yeah," Keith replied, his smile slow but sure. "Home." 

 

* * *

 

As Shiro had suspected, as soon as his grandmother caught wind of Keith's situation, she insisted he take Shiro's old bed. It was a twin anyway, she reasoned, so it's not like it was a comfortable fit when Shiro came home to visit anyway. She'd been meaning to replace it with a larger bed for a while, and really, Keith was doing her a  _ favor _ by taking it off her hands. Keith didn't look convinced, but Shiro's baachan was a force of nature and Keith wasn't used to fending off maternal figures, and so by the end of his first weekend in the apartment, he had a bed. 

They settled into their new living arrangement easily; Keith had already spent a lot of time at Shiro and Matt's apartment, so there wasn't much of an adjustment to be made. Once school started up they rarely had time do much more than wave in passing, especially Keith, who continued his work at the music store in addition to the classes, homework, orchestra rehearsals, and community service he had to keep up with in order to keep his scholarship. 

It wasn't easy, and there were usually at least a couple of nights a week where Shiro would find Keith passed out on the couch, whatever homework he'd been working on dropped to the floor beside him. Shiro would gently wake Keith up and either coax him to bed or make coffee, depending on how essential the homework he had was. 

Despite the stress of their schedules, they still found time to spend time together, even when that was just sharing the coffee table with their respective textbooks spread out between them. 

The best times, though, were when they played music together. 

Keith's technique had improved by leaps and bounds, but his lack of much formal education landed him in the second violin section when it came time for seating auditions, though his position in second chair was nothing to sneeze at. Shiro had shocked himself along with everyone in the program by being the first undergrad junior to land concertmaster. This, of course, meant that they had complementary parts, which made for fun practice sessions at home. 

Shiro never tired of watching Keith play, seeing him lose himself in the music. He approached every piece they played with the same intensity, and getting to play  _ with _ him, getting to be a  _ part _ of that, was exhilarating. 

"Am I rushing that section?" Keith asked, frowning down at his stand. 

"A little," Shiro admitted. "But to be fair, it sounds good when it's played faster when it's just us. But once you get the flute parts in there--" 

"Yeah, going slower makes more sense," Keith said, nodding. He picked up his pencil and made a note on the music. "Can we try it again?" 

He asked, as if Shiro would ever turn down a chance to play with him. 

"What made you choose the violin?" Shiro asked one night, well into their second semester living together. It was a weekend, a rare night when they could both afford to put off homework for a few hours and just enjoy some takeout and a movie. There was a long silence, long enough that Shiro was about to speak up and take back his question, when Keith finally spoke. 

"My dad used to have this fancy sound system," he said quietly. "He'd play lots of classic rock, but sometimes he'd put on instrumental stuff. I always loved it." He paused, hesitating. "He said those records were my mom's. That she'd played them for me when I was a baby to get me to sleep." 

Shiro knew Keith's mom had left when he was still so young that he had no memory of her, so he knew this wasn't easy for him to talk about. He slid an arm around Keith's shoulders, giving a small squeeze. Keith glanced over at him, giving him a small smile. 

"The school I went to had us pick an elective in fifth grade. Most people wanted to do the band so they could work their way up to the marching band in high school, but I never wanted anything but the violin. I wanted to play stuff like what I'd heard on those records. I wasn't very good at first, but I was too stubborn to give up." 

"Good thing," Shiro murmured, almost to himself. Keith hummed his agreement. 

"It sounds cliche, but I don't know where I'd be now if not for music," he admitted. "It was everything. It gave me an escape when I needed one. I could stay after school and practice when my foster family wasn't… well." He raised a shoulder in a shrug. "And now… now, I don't need to escape anything," he said quietly. "But sometimes when all the parts come together right, for the right piece of music at the right time, in front of the right audience…" He trailed off, as if searching for the right words. "It can feel like flying," he finally settled on. "Like the ground has dropped away beneath my feet but it's okay, because we're gliding on the music."

It was a feeling Shiro knew well, one he'd never succeeded at putting into words. It was also one he'd felt far more often since he'd started playing with Keith on a regular basis. 

 

* * *

 

It seemed like barely any time at all had passed before suddenly Shiro and Matt were handed degrees, and Matt was moving in with his girlfriend of two years by that point. Keith and Shiro downsized into a smaller apartment almost without speaking about it; it seemed like a given that they'd stay together. Shiro was continuing on at ASU as a graduate student, so it really only made sense. 

It absolutely made sense, even if his inability to keep his eyes off of Keith was becoming a  _ problem _ . 

He wasn't sure when it had started, really. At some point Keith had joined Shiro in his workout routine, and that combined with a late growth spurt had frankly ruined Shiro. He'd  _ stuttered _ the day Keith had forgotten to take his clothes into the bathroom and had emerged covered in nothing but a towel. 

Most of the time, though, things were just like normal. They'd spend an hour or two in the afternoons practicing together, sometimes working on stuff for the symphony, sometimes just working on something they wanted to play together, their melodies weaving around each other in ways that sent Shiro's spirit soaring. Then they'd go to work, or if they happened to both be off, end up on the couch critiquing each other's movie choices. 

Sometimes Keith was so exhausted he fell asleep during the movie, slumping over onto Shiro on the couch. If Shiro carefully adjusted to make Keith as comfortable as possible, it was just because he was worried about him not getting enough sleep, and nothing at all to do with how soft he looked as he slept and how warm he was against Shiro's side. Nothing at all to do with how Shiro could look down at him and imagine they were something more than the best of friends. 

Thankfully, with a concert coming up he had plenty to keep him busy, but even so, he found his thoughts straying to Keith often, even on the night of the performance.

"You're staring again." Matt's voice cut through Shiro's musings in a sing-song tone. Shiro shot him an unimpressed look, to which Matt shrugged. "You were. You  _ live _ together, Shiro, you've been looking at the guy for years, what makes tonight any different?" 

It wasn't  _ different _ , really, but Keith did look sharp in the standard orchestra tux. There had been a time when it had hung off his thin frame a bit awkwardly, but now it decidedly did  _ not _ . He'd grown into it beautifully, and honestly, Shiro couldn't be blamed for noticing. 

"I wasn't staring," is what he settled on, causing Matt to roll his eyes. 

"Right. Sure. Look, I haven't said anything because I figured you'd say something when you were ready, but you know no one's gonna mind that you two are dating, right? None of our friends, anyway." Shiro's eyes widened as he finally turned, giving Matt his full attention. 

"What? Matt, we're not dating." Matt paused in snapping his case shut to look over at Shiro.

"Shiro, you don't have to-" He paused, leaned in a little closer. "Oh my god, you're not lying. That's even  _ worse _ ," he all but moaned. 

"What's worse?" Keith's voice suddenly came from behind Shiro, causing him to jump so hard his violin hit the side of the chair with an alarming  _ twang _ . 

"Nothing," Shiro said sharply. Keith looked skeptical, but turned his attention to Matt. "We talked about hitting Mulgrew's after the concert, do you and Jane wanna come?" Matt's gaze flickered between Keith's earnest expression and Shiro's narrowed gaze. 

"Uh, no thanks, Jane and I actually have plans, considering the date and all," he said quickly. "Actually, there she is now. You guys have fun!" He snapped the final closure on his instrument case and hefted it over his shoulder and hurrying toward the door. 

"What's with him?" Keith asked, frowning. "Did I say something wrong?" 

"No," Shiro hurried to assure him. "No, he's just… being Matt," he finished lamely. "You still up for Mulgrew's, though?" 

"Definitely," Keith agreed, his expression brightening. 

The diner had kind of become their "spot"  over the past couple of years, the place they went after concerts and especially late rehearsals when either of them had any money to spare. The staff knew them by name and generally knew what they'd want to eat before they ever ordered. 

Tonight, Shiro raised his eyes when they walked into the diner, not expecting the explosion of pink and red that covered ever surface. Suddenly, Matt's "considering the date" from earlier made a lot more sense. 

"Oh, it's Valentine's," he said, rather unnecessarily, prompting a laugh from Keith beside him. 

"Shiro, we just finished the Valentine's Day concert." Shiro shrugged, looking sheepish. 

"I got so caught up in rehearsals and stuff I forgot about the actual  _ holiday _ part of it," he admitted. "Still want to do dinner?" 

"Of course," Keith replied, giving him an odd look. "I mean, unless you don't want-" 

"No, yeah, I mean-" Shiro stopped his fumbling and forced a grin. "Dinner sounds great." 

It was a busy night, but Kate came by soon enough, greeting the two of them with bright smiles and sly comments on their sharp suits. Shiro wished he could snap a picture of the way that made Keith flush. 

"I know y'all are here all the time and know the menu inside out, but we've got a special for Valentine's," Kate said once they were seated, sliding a laminated sheet onto the table. "Shared appetizer, choice between prime rib or salmon, and dessert for $35," she explained."I'll be back in just a minute to take your orders," she promised, hurrying off to see to another customer. 

Shiro couldn't help noticing how Keith was eyeing the steak in the picture. "Wanna do the special?" he offered. Keith glanced up uncertainly. 

"It's more than we'd normally spend," he pointed out. Shiro shrugged. 

"We just pulled off a flawless concert," he said, grinning. "Surely we can treat ourselves, right? Besides, when else are we going to get prime rib so cheap?"

It was a flawless argument that won Keith over pretty easily. They split an appetizer of potato skins and debated the next concert's musical selections over prime rib so tender neither of them had to touch their knife. Dessert was cheesecake for Keith, chocolate cake for Shiro, though they shared back and forth enough that it ended up being about half and half anyway. 

It was an hour of fantastic companionship and easy conversation across from the most attractive person Shiro knew; he couldn't help but think that it was really no wonder he'd stopped dating not too long after he met Keith. 

"All I'm saying is you should try out for it," Shiro said, as Keith continued shaking his head stubbornly. "You've got the skill for it." 

"I don't like solo stuff," Keith insisted. "I like playing  _ with _ people. Like, the symphony is great, but small groups. The ensemble we did for Christmas this past year? That was perfect," he said. Shiro couldn't help but smile at the memory; he, Keith, and a few friends had volunteered to play the music for a local children's theater's Nutcracker production. Seeing the way Keith interacted with curious children had been absolutely worth it, even through all the bickering he'd done with Lance during rehearsals. 

"That was pretty great," Shiro allowed, pausing to smile at Kate as she approached once more. 

"Alright, here's your ticket, but no rush. You boys have a good rest of your date, alright? It's sweet to see couples like you that's been together so long still putting in an effort, looking so spiffy in those suits. Now if I can just get that point across to my husband, eh?" She laughed at her own joke as she stuffed her notepad back in her apron. "See y'all again soon!"

She was gone before Shiro could even get a word of protest in edgewise, and he felt a blush creeping up the back of his neck. He reached for the ticket, using it as an excuse to look at anything other than Keith. 

"Well,  _ babe _ ," Keith drawled, breaking into Shiro's frantic mental litany of reasons he  _ shouldn't _ be panicking. "Ready to head home?" 

It took a couple of seconds for Shiro to push back the internal echo of  _ babe, babe, babe _ before he could reply. "Um. Yes?" Keith laughed and nudged at him with his foot under the table. 

"Come on, it was a  _ little _ funny, right?" 

"Yeah," Shiro agreed, sliding out of the booth. "Hilarious." He was too busy rushing off to pay the bill to notice the considering look on Keith's face. 

 

* * *

 

The next few days were torture. 

Well, okay, torture was probably a bit harsh. Keith managed to forget to take his clothes into the bathroom  _ every time _ he showered, giving Shiro more looks at his broad chest and narrow hips than was good for his sanity. Keith also fell asleep on him on the couch twice over the course of three days, and Shiro could have sworn the casual touches from him at least doubled. He felt as if Keith's eyes were on him more often, too, shrewd and far too knowing.

By the fourth day, he'd convinced himself it was all in his head. Someone had thought they were dating, planted the thought in his head, and now he was reading too much into everything -- it was that simple. He tried to push it all to the side, lock it back into the My Best Friend is Attractive And That's Just How Life Is box, and move on. 

A week later, things had just about returned to normal. It was time for the semester's seating auditions, and he and Keith had spent a lot of time working on the required selections. They weren't easy pieces, but both men handled them well; in fact, Shiro thought Keith handled them  _ better _ , though Keith always scoffed when he said so. The way Keith's fingers flew over the fingerboard was entrancing, and his bowing control had blossomed into something to be admired. 

Shiro found it no surprise when the results came out, and Keith had overtaken Shiro's long-held position as concertmaster. 

"There has to be a mistake," Keith said, looking horrified as he closed the email attachment, then opened it again, as if that might change what it said. "I don't- this doesn't-" Shiro couldn't help but chuckle from his position by Keith on their couch. 

"Keith, you earned the position fair and square," he said, reaching out to squeeze Keith's shoulder gently. "Congratulations. You deserve it."

"That's  _ your _ seat," Keith said quietly. "I don't want to take it from you." Shiro shook his head, gesturing at his own result of first violin, second chair. 

"My seat's beside you," he said simply. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be." The silence that fell between them at that felt heavy, meaningful. 

"You mean that?" Keith asked a moment later, his fingers plucking absently at the strings on his violin. There was a tension in his shoulders that made Shiro want to reach out and rub. He pulled his hand from Keith's shoulder and into his own lap to resist the urge.

"Of course I do," he replied. He wasn't sure why, but he knew he had to get this right. "Ever since I met you," he said slowly, "it's the only place I've wanted to be." The faint music from Keith's strumming stopped. 

"In the orchestra pit," he clarified, voice low. Shiro swallowed hard, and shook his head. Keith looked up at him for a long moment, trying to read what he saw in Shiro's eyes. Shiro honestly felt like his expression had to be mostly bewilderment with an edge of panic, but he saw the exact moment Keith saw what he needed and made up his mind. 

Shiro watched as Keith set his violin aside, placing it gently on the coffee table next to his laptop, then turned to face Shiro. He reached out, placing both hands on Shiro's shoulders. 

"You're everything," he said simply, then slid his hands up to reach around the back of Shiro's neck, and pulled him in for a kiss. 

Late at night, the only time he ever really let himself think about such things, Shiro sometimes thought about what it would be like to kiss Keith. He always imagined freezing in surprise for a moment, his brain taking a second to catch up with what was happening, but the reality was that once Keith's lips touched his own, Shiro's body took over. His hands slid up Keith's back as their lips molded together, and he groaned into the kiss a moment later when Keith deepened it, his fingers scratching lightly through the short hair at the nape of Shiro's neck.

It lasted forever and not long enough. It felt like playing with Keith, their notes twining together and soaring up to the ceiling. It felt like flying. 

It was everything. 

When Keith pulled away, he still looked a bit nervous, as if the magnitude of what he'd done was beginning to catch up with him. 

"I'm sorry," he started. "If you don't-" 

He was cut off suddenly, when Shiro decided he'd rather learn more about what Keith's lips tasted like than hear the end of that ridiculous sentence.

* * *

 

A couple of months later, the ASU Symphony was giving its first concert under its new concertmaster, and Keith was a bundle of nerves. The prep room was full of the sounds of tuning instruments, and Keith's fingers tripped nervously over his strings, despite having checked his tuning multiple times already. 

"Keith." Shiro pulled the violin gently out of his grip, setting it in a nearby chair. "Your tuning's perfect.  _ You're _ perfect," he added, smiling softly as he brushed a stray curl out of Keith's face. Keith huffed at the sentiment, but leaned slightly into Shiro's touch, taking comfort there. "Hey, I got you something," Shiro said after a moment. "To commemorate your first concert as first chair." He turned, pulling a small box from the outer pocket of his violin case. 

"Shiro, you didn't need to do that," Keith protested. 

"I know," Shiro replied simply. "But I wanted to. Besides, it'll benefit me too," he added, holding the box out to Keith. Keith frowned suspiciously as he took the box, and leaned in closer. 

"You're not having me open a toy in the middle of-"   
  
" _ No _ ," Shiro protested, flushing red. "God, no, Keith. Just. Open it," he sighed. With another suspicious glance, Keith complied, slipping off the purple ribbon and pulling the top off of the box. 

"It's…" He picked up the silver piece, turning it over in the light. "Wings?"

"A stand clip," Shiro explained. "Shaped like wings. You said once, that music made you-"

"...feel like I was flying," Keith finished with him, a soft smile spreading across his face. He cradled the clip in his hand as if it were something precious, then carefully set it aside and pulled Shiro in to kiss him, hard. "Thank you," he said quietly when he pulled away. "You should know, though, that it's not just music that makes me feel that way anymore."

"Oh?" Shiro replied, smiling as he pressed a kiss to Keith's forehead, still amazed that he could have this. 

"Yeah," Keith said, turning his face up to grin at Shiro. "Turns out being in love feels an awful lot like flying, too." 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! All kudos and comments are appreciated. You can find me on Twitter at [@B1ackPa1adins](https://twitter.com/B1ackPa1adins), come say hi!


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